


The Adventure of the Landlady's Secret

by Elizabeth_Watson1895



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BAMF Mrs. Hudson, Backstory, Case Fic, Concerned John Watson, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mrs. Hudson backstory, POV John Watson, Parental Mrs. Hudson, Pre-Reichenbach, Protective Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-09 23:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17414213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth_Watson1895/pseuds/Elizabeth_Watson1895
Summary: When Mrs. Hudson disappears, the boys take on her case, a case Sherlock thought he'd solved years ago.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all!  
> This piece is set somewhere pre-reichenbach, but I use details revealed in Seasons 3 and 4.

     John unfolded his newspaper, sitting comfortably in his armchair. He skimmed the headlines. Nothing interesting. Some politician in a scandal. Some company or other being sued. He flipped the page.

     Crash!

     John looked up, vaguely concerned. “Sherlock?” he called.

     “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Sherlock muttered back.

     The door flew open. “Boys?” Mrs. Hudson called, sounding alarmed.

     “We’re all right, Mrs. Hudson,” John reassured her. “Sherlock’s just being Sherlock.”

     “Oh, alright.” Looking rattled, Mrs. Hudson pattered back down the stairs. John frowned.

     “Sherlock?” he said, his frown deepening.

     “Hmm?”

     “Does Mrs. Hudson seem a bit…jumpy to you?” John asked.

     “No more than usual. She’s always worried too much,” Sherlock replied.

     “No, it’s different,” John said, feeling more sure as he thought about it. “She’s been almost paranoid for the past week. I came home from work a few minutes late yesterday and she acted like she was certain something terrible had happened to me.”

     “You do seem to always get yourself kidnapped,” Sherlock pointed out. John glared at him.

     “That’s beside the point. Anyway, haven’t we agreed that those are all your fault?”

     “I never agreed to that.” John sighed angrily. Clearly they were getting nowhere. “I’m just worried about her, is all,” he said.

     “Why?” Sherlock said.

     “Why? Sherlock, have you been listening to me at all?”

     “No.” John groaned.

     “I give up.” He went back to his newspaper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     The next day, John finished up with his last patient at the clinic early.

     “Later, Sarah,” he called to his coworker over his shoulder.

     “Get some rest, John,” she replied. He laughed.

     Sarah was a good woman. Even though things between them hadn’t exactly worked out, she was still his favorite of his coworkers. Always willing to pick up his patients when a case with Sherlock took over his life, and nice to talk to, too.

     Lost in his thoughts, he arrived home at Baker Street an hour before he normally did. As he opened the door, a flurry of movement stopped him in his tracks

     “Reginald, I swear to the high heavens if you don’t-“ Mrs. Hudson stopped, the fear and anger on her face melting away and recognition took its place. “John?”

     John’s eyes landed on the revolver in her hand, still pointed at him. “What-“

      “John! What are you doing home from work so early?” she asked, clearly trying to cover her frazzled nerves.

      “I finished early,” he replied, still staring at the gun. She noticed where he was looking, and quickly hid the gun behind her back.

      “Oh, silly old me, of course you did.” She laughed, but the sound was forced.

      “Mrs. Hudson…why do you have a gun?” John asked, still staring at her, unmoved from his position at the door.

     “Oh, this?” she asked, holding it up and looking at it. “Just a, just a…” she stumbled, clearly at a lost for words. “It’s just a family thing. Nothing to trouble you with.”

     “If you’re sure,” John said, and started for the stairs. He stopped. “Mrs. Hudson, I thought you didn’t have any family in London?”

     “I don’t,” she replied.

     “I see,” he said. “Mrs. Hudson, if you’re in trouble-“

     “Oh, don’t be silly, dear. Don’t worry about little old me. I can take care of myself, you know.”

     “I’m sure,” he said, still worried.

     “Go on upstairs, now. I’ll bring you a nice cuppa in a little bit, how about that?”

     “That would be lovely, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you.” John climbed the stairs to 221B, lost in thought.

     Mrs. Hudson had never mentioned any family to him. He knew her husband, Frank, had been executed for murder or something, but he didn’t know any details. She’d never mentioned any family apart from her sister, but she lived abroad. So who was this Reginald?

     He walked into 221B and collapsed in his chair. “Sherlock?” he called.

     “Busy,” he replied from the kitchen, not looking up.

     “I think Mrs. Hudson is in trouble.”

     Sherlock sighed. “Oh. This again.”

     “I’m serious, Sherlock. She nearly shot me today.”

     “I’m sure you’re exaggerating. Don’t, John, it’s dreadfully dull.”

     “Sherlock, honestly. I came home early and she leapt out of her apartment shrieking something about Reginald, and brandished a gun at me!” John shook his head, still unable to believe it. “Mrs. Hudson, with a gun. I never thought I’d see the day…”

     “She has a gun?” Sherlock looked up.

     “Yes, Sherlock, and she almost accidentally used it on me!”

     “Hmm.” With that, he looked back down at his work.

     “Seriously? That’s your reaction? Your landlady has a gun, and your reaction is ‘hmm’?” John was getting angry now.

     “You have a gun. Why is it different?”

     “I am a military doctor, Sherlock. I’ve been _trained_.”

     “And you think she hasn’t? Her husband ran a cartel, John, don’t be stupid.”

     “What?” John said, sitting up.

     “He ran a cartel, didn’t you know?” Sherlock seemed positively unbothered by the bombshell he was dropping.

     “No, I bloody well didn’t know. I knew he got executed for murder or something, but…” he trailed off. Mrs. Hudson was going to bring him a cup of tea, and she was taking longer than usual. “I’m going to go check on her.”

     Sherlock didn’t respond, and John shook his head. He climbed down the stairs, and called out, “Mrs. Hudson? Mrs. Hudson, are you there?”

     There was no response.

     John frowned, getting worried. He walked into 221A. “Mrs. Hudson?” he called again. “It’s John.” Still no response. He looked around the flat, but there was no sign of her anywhere. He was looking around again when his eyes landed on a letter, addressed:

Dear Sherlock and John,

     He frowned, really worried now. His heart hammered in his chest as he picked up the letter and raced upstairs.

     “Sherlock? Sherlock, she’s gone.”

     “What?” Sherlock looked up, genuine concern on his face.

     “She isn’t in her flat. But she left us a letter.”

     “What does it say?”

     “I…I haven’t read it,” John said.

     “Well,” Sherlock said, motioning for him to begin.

     John cleared his throat, preparing to read the letter.

 

Dear Sherlock and John,

If you are reading this, I have left Baker Street. I hope of my own will, but I can’t promise anything. There are things in my past I haven’t told you about, and they’ve come back to haunt me. Sherlock knows some pieces, but even he doesn’t know the whole story. I’d like to tell you now, in this letter, everything you don’t know. The whole story. Please, boys, I need your help. Solve my case.

 

     John looked up, locking eyes with Sherlock, an unspoken vow between them. They would do whatever it took to save their Mrs. Hudson.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock finish reading Mrs. Hudson's letter about her past.

      “There’s more,” John said, flipping through the pages. “Do you want me to keep reading it?”

      Sherlock motioned with his hand, staring off past John’s head. He steepled his fingers under his chin, listening.

     “Right,” John said, and continued reading:

 

     My parents died when I was seventeen, and I was left on my own. By now, Sherlock has discovered I became an exotic dancer for a while in my youth. I worked at a place called “The Red Mountain.” A woman named Madame Wallace ran the place while I was there. She’s long since retired, and I’m not sure that ever was her real name. But that was the name she gave.

     I worked at The Red Mountain for a number of years. It’s where I met Frank. He and some business associates were having a meeting of some kind, and I caught his eye. We, well, I’ll spare you the details, boys, but let me say that things were always very physical between us.

     Before I knew it, we were married. I didn’t know about the true nature of his business. Of course, looking back, the fact that they met to do business at a strip club should have warned me it wasn’t entirely legal. But of course, by the time I’d figured that out, it was too late.

     It started innocent enough. His normal “secretary” was incapacitated, and he asked me to step in and take notes during one of his meetings. I started to get suspicious, but Frank got so angry if I asked him anything, so I didn’t say anything.

     I started putting it all together, and realized they were running a drug cartel. Now mind you, I was only typing, but I was wrapped up in it now too. And, to add to it, I was pregnant.

     Of course, it was all physical between me and Frank. We just couldn’t keep our hands off each other. There was never a lot of love, but the other stuff was great. Even after I figured out what he was up to, it was difficult to keep distance between us. So there I was, pregnant, with a husband with an anger problem who was running a drug cartel.

     That was when it all started to get ugly. I had the baby just fine, a baby boy I named Frank, after his father. Frankie. was the light of my life. He meant everything to me. Frank threatened to have him sent away, saying this was no place for a baby. I told him if the baby went, I went. So Mr. Hudson kept us both.

     I’m not sure exactly what happened after that. A few years later, something with the cartel went wrong, and Frank came home increasingly mad. I kept Frankie from seeing the worst of it, but things got ugly.

     Frank got arrested for blowing someone’s head off when Frankie. was about four. I tried to run at that point, but the other cartel members caught me and dragged me back. It was getting bad. When Frank got out free, he decided I was too much of a risk. He separated me and my baby boy, saying Frankie was distracting me, and causing too much trouble. It wasn’t true, of course. There was never a sweeter child than my baby Frankie.

     Without Frankie, I knew I had to get out of there. It was two long years while I tried to find a way out of it. I ran away and found a safe haven for a few years. I lived with a lovely woman named Mrs. Turner. You know her, boys, she lives next door. She’s the one who gave me 221 Baker Street, and helped me rebuild my life. I thought I’d gotten away from Frank, but it wasn’t long before my husband’s associates found me.

     Frank was so mad when they brought me back. He said things that haunt me to this day. About me, about Frankie. About things he’d done. That was when I got wind of the double murder. They may have dragged me back there, but I ran away again. And that was when I found Sherlock. He was such a sweet boy, only fifteen. About the age my Frankie would have been.

     And dear Sherlock, you know the rest. My husband was convicted of a double homicide and executed by lethal injection.

     I tried to find Frankie at that point, but I couldn’t. I’ve been trying for years, but he’s disappeared off the face of the earth.

     Mrs. Turner helped me rebuild my life again. I owe everything to her. I’ve never properly thanked her for everything she did.

     So now I come to today. There’s someone else, someone from the cartel days. His name is Reginald, and-

 

     And there it stopped. John looked up. “It just…ends there. She didn’t finish it. Why didn’t she finish it? Did someone…” he trailed off, his stomach aching from the idea of someone hurting dear Mrs. Hudson.

     “Hmm.” Sherlock steepled his hands under his chin. “Peculiar.”

     “Peculiar? This isn’t one of you ‘peculiar cases.’ Sherlock, this is MRS. HUDSON we’re talking about. This isn’t just any case. Why aren’t you more worried?” John shook his head angrily.

     “John, really, you’re being absurd,” Sherlock said, brushing him off lightly.

     “Absurd. Really. You didn’t believe me when I said Mrs. Hudson was paranoid, and now you don’t think it’s worrying that she’s missing?” He shook his head. “God, Sherlock. Every time I think you’ve grown, you just prove me wrong all over again.” He exhaled angrily. “She compared you to her son, Sherlock. Her son. Who’s apparently been missing for, I don’t know, THIRTY YEARS? Did you even know she had a son?”

     “John, please, I’m trying to think.” Baker Street fell into an uneasy silence as John paced, and Sherlock stared straight ahead, processing.

     Then, all of a sudden, Sherlock jumped up and raced down the stairs. “What are you waiting for, John? The game is on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> EW

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is not completely written yet, so I can't promise anything as far as a schedule, but I'm hoping to update once a week, as long as my life doesn't get crazy.
> 
> Let me know what you think so far! I love comments.  
> EW


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